


Carpe Noctem

by WingedWhale



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual!Mycroft, F/M, First Time, Getting Together, Matchmaker!Anthea, Mollcroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedWhale/pseuds/WingedWhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Reichenbach: Mycroft asks Molly to dinner. A simple dinner invitation leads to something much more special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Noctem

            Molly blinked at her computer screen, glancing at the tiny clock in the corner. It was just after eight in the evening and her stomach was beginning to protest the extra hours she’d put in. She sighed a little dejectedly, it looked as if she’d be having Chinese take-away for the fourth night in a row. While she knew she should muster up the energy to grocery shopping, she just couldn’t be arsed. Her body and brain were still trying to catch up from the stress and shock of helping Sherlock fake his death just three days earlier.

            It was exceedingly difficult not to wonder what Sherlock was doing. He could be anywhere on the planet, doing who knew what . . . and though logically she knew full well it was counterproductive for her to worry about something so far out of her control, she couldn’t help it. It was in her nature to care. And thus to wonder.

            It didn’t exactly help matters that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about her concerns. Well . . . the two conversations she’d had with Sherlock’s brother only sort of counted. It wasn’t as if she could just whip out her mobile and ring him to have a chat just so that she could feel better. As much as she might want to. She supposed her Sherlock obsessed thoughts would pass in time. Yes, that was it. All she needed was time.

            She rather embarrassingly jumped in her seat when her mobile buzzed, the text on her screen indicating an unknown number.

            “Hello?” she asked a trifle hesitantly.

            “Hello, Miss Hooper. I trust you’re having _quite_ the pleasant evening alone in your office?”

            “Mr. Holmes!” she said, self consciously wondering if his ears were burning. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

            She inwardly groaned at her words. _Really, Molly? Can you seriously not make a fool out of yourself when talking to a pretty man?_

“I was wondering if you might care to join me for dinner, I can send a car to fetch you in fifteen minutes.”

            Molly made a face of confused disbelief. “Is there something about your brother we need to discuss?”

            “ . . . No. I just thought you might fancy some real food for once this week. I haven’t had anything to eat since six this morning and well, . . .” Molly heard Mycroft sigh. “I know that nothing I do will ever come close to thanking you properly for everything you’ve done, but maybe treating you to a good meal might be an excellent start.”

            “Oh, you don’t need to do that . . . well, _unless you really want to._ To be honest, I’m more than bit peckish myself and a real dinner sounds rather lovely. It’s just I’m not much to look at on such a short notice. _”_

“Nonsense, I’m sure you’re as perfectly statuesque as always.”

            Molly nearly choked at that. _Statuesque? Mycroft Holmes thought she was statuesque? What alternative dimension have you just fallen into, Molly?_

 _“_ I-I don’t know about that, but fine. Who am I to argue with the head of MI 6?”

            “There now, that’s the spirit. I look forward to your company. See you shortly.”

            And with that, the Mycroft ended the call and Molly was left staring at her phone as if it were some sort of bizarre alien life form.

            Her stomach rumbled, perking up at the mention of food that didn’t come out of cardboard boxes. She luckily kept some deodorant and a few assorted cosmetics in her hospital locker, so while she wouldn’t be able to take a shower, she’d be able to make herself feel slightly more human. Switching off her computer, she stood up and pushed in her chair, stretching luxuriously and hearing her spine give a satisfying pop.

            It would do her good to get out into the world a bit. Not that she was exactly _hiding_ in her office these past few days, she wasn’t . . . really.  Well, she readily admitted she had ignored a few texts from Greg Lestrade. And while it was probably not the greatest thing she’d ever done in her life, she knew it was the only option she could live with. Because lying to him, even if for the right reasons felt so utterly and terribly wrong. She was probably happier than she should have been to have the company of someone who knew the truth about Sherlock.

            She freshened up in the women’s loo washing her face and trying to ignore the dark circles under eyes that shown in the fluorescent lights. She hoped her skin would look a bit healthier once she got something like some grilled salmon into her stomach.

            A black sedan with tinted windows rolled up to the kerb just as she left the building, the window coming down to reveal the pretty face of Mycroft’s assistant. ‘Anthea’ opened the door from the inside and patted the seat next to her. Molly got in, setting her handbag on the floor of the car.

            “Hi,” said Anthea with a little smile.

            “Hello,” replied Molly.

            “Is seafood all right with you?”

            “Hey, as long as it doesn’t come in a take-away container, I’ll eat just about anything right now,” Molly replied.

            Anthea’s smile turned into a grin. “Splendid.”

            “Why do you look like a cat with a canary?” Molly asked, looking askance at the other woman.

            “Oh. My apologies. It’s just . . . you’re the first woman he’s taken to dinner.”

            Molly narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Say that again?”

            “You heard me, _you_ Molly Hooper are the _very first woman_ Mycroft Holmes has ever extended a dinner invitation to.”

            “If you were anyone else, I must confess I wouldn’t believe you. And I’m still not sure that I do. Even if he hasn’t had any private dinners with female friends while you’ve been in his employ that doesn’t mean he’s _never_ had one.”

            “I promise you, _he hasn’t._ But you didn’t hear this from me.”

            Molly sighed. “Are you telling me this dinner is supposed to be some kind of date? And that I’m _Mycroft Holmes’ first date ever?”_

“With a woman, yes.”

            “Oh! Well there you have it then.”

            “Mr. Holmes isn’t gay.”

            Molly made a strangely bemused face at Anthea. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. “Do I even want to know how you know that to be true? And why the hell are you so happy about this?”           

            “I’m sorry. This isn’t very professional of me.”

            “No, it really isn’t, is it?”

            “It’s just rather really refreshing to see him seek someone out, especially a woman, for dinner conversation and not simply sex.”

            Molly shot Anthea a sidelong look. “Woah there, little Miss Matchmaker, hold your horses. He and I haven’t even had dinner yet don’t go off planning our wedding.”

            “Just remember he’s _never **ever**_ willingly sought out someone’s company for dinner in all the years I’ve known him. And don’t you dare start about how he’s only doing it out of gratitude for you helping his brother.”

            Molly rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “Fine. _Whatever._ I’m telling you though, I’m only in this for the salmon.”

            Five minutes the sedan pulled up alongside a popular seafood restaurant.

            “I hope you both have fun!” Anthea called out before Molly shut the car door.

            “Good night,” Molly said giving the other woman a good-natured glare.

            The restaurant had a revolving door and Molly had to wait in a short line to get inside the building. The light in the foyer was subdued with a large amber hued light sculpture of an octopus hanging from the ceiling.  Molly did a quick scan of what she could see of the dining room. Movement caught her attention as Mycroft stood up and made a gesture of acknowledgement. She made a beeline down the row of booths, the cushions accented with patterns of turquoise and gold fish. She gave Mycroft a warm smile “Thanks for suggesting this,” she told him, sitting down. Her eyes brightened in delight as she noticed the basket of fresh bread on the table.

            “It’s really my pleasure, Doctor Hooper.”

            “Oh please, do call me Molly.”

            “ _Molly it is then._ And if it makes you feel more comfortable, you may use my first name . . . if you want to do so. _”_ he said in a smooth tone. The sound of him saying her first name only made her smile more. She snatched a piece of bread and began meticulously lathering it with a good dollop of honeyed butter.

            “Have you had a decent day?” she asked conversationally.

            “My day has been neither wholly good nor wholly bad. It’s a rather frequent occurrence in my line of work. Two steps forward, one step back. You know, that kind of thing,” he said making a gesture with his hand.

            Molly nodded in understanding, savouring the taste of the fresh baked bread. She looked over the menu spotting a lovely looking crab stuffed salmon with lemon butter risotto. A waiter appeared to take her drink order and she ordered sparkling water. She saw that Mycroft had a glass of red wine, and while she certainly did drink on occasion, she wasn’t really feeling up for it after her long day. Wine would only spike her blood sugar later and keep her up watching crap telly when she had an early schedule in the morning.

            The waiter returned promptly and the two of them ordered their meals. Mycroft chose blackened grouper.

            “So Mycroft,” Molly said with genuine interest. “What does a man such as yourself do for fun?”

            The ginger haired gentleman across from her gave her a purposefully comical look of utter confusion.

            “Fun?” he echoed. “What is this thing you speak of?”

            “Come on, I know you aren’t a robot,” Molly told him. “And even Star Trek’s Data pursued musical and artistic pastimes.”

             Mycroft gave her a bemused smile. “I keep a mare in Hertfordshire.”

            “Oh, how lovely, what breed is she and what’s her name?”

            “While it might break my patriotic persona not to have an English horse, my Hilda is pure Friesian. And don’t you dare tell anyone, but on long plane rides I’ve been known to crochet her ear cosies to keep the flies at bay. I find that fiddling about with premium wool yarn is quite therapeutic. ”

            Molly grinned in genuine delight.

            “I used to be on the equestrian team at Uni, but once I got into medical school I sadly was no longer able to find the time to ride.”

            “Hilda’s beginning to train in fourth level dressage.”

            “Wow, that’s impressive! Do you show her?”

            “Unfortunately my current schedule doesn’t permit me to make personal commitments very much in advance, but there is a lad that rides her at British Dressage events in the summer. Though once in awhile, I _am_ able to actually ride in an event.”

            Molly carefully ignored the rise of heat in her belly at the thought of watching Mycroft ride fourth level dressage on his mare. She stuffed her mouth with another bite of bread instead, quite pleased with herself for being able to maintain a convincing poker face.

            “You know, if you’d like to accompany me out to the stable on a Sunday afternoon you’re quite welcome to come along. We can even get you in the saddle. Hilda’s quite a docile and gregarious creature.”

            Molly’s eyes lit up. “I look forward to it,” she said, with a warm and grateful smile.

            Their conversation continued to come easily throughout the duration of their meal. They talked about their favourite permanent exhibits at the British Museum as well which segued into their favourite periods of history. For Mycroft it was Ancient Rome and for Molly it was the Tudor Dynasty. As their conversation progressed they discovered that they were both ‘ _agnostic atheists_ ’ and were avid readers of Richard Dawkins. They fell into a mesmerising sort of synch with each other. By the time the cheque came, Molly felt very privileged to have seen another side of Mycroft Holmes. Very privileged and more than a little _aroused_. The question now was, what was she going to do about it?

            She watched as he slipped his card to the waiter. When the man retreated she fixed Mycroft with a playfully questioning look.

            “What would you say if I told you that our night doesn’t need to end here?”

            Mycroft didn’t immediately answer. “It’s been a _very_ long time since I’ve been with a woman,” he said softly. “I’m not sure you want to be my ‘guinea pig’ as it were for returning to female companions.”

            Molly quirked a brow challengingly. “How long is ‘a _very_ long time’”?

            “Five years.”

            “Am I allowed to ask the next question?” Molly ventured.

            “Three weeks,” he said in answer to an unspoken query.

            “So on the Kinsey scale you’re something like a four?”

            Mycroft gave her a half smile. “It’s a bit more complicated than that I’m afraid. I’m closer to a three, actually. But . . . I find men to be a bit more “fitting” for my tastes when pursuing a casual shag.”

            “You possess an eidetic memory. Do you really think you’ve forgotten things?”

            “I’ve never slept with anyone because I liked their personality.”

            “Do you like my personality?” Molly asked in a small voice.

            “I believe I rather do,” he answered, his voice honeyed with suggestion.

            The waiter returned and dropped Mycroft’s card off. He signed the cheque with a flourish and raised his gaze to Molly’s. She licked her lips and smiled.

            “Shall we see what you remember?” she asked.

            He stood and came round to whisper sensually in her ear. “Well if I’m not mistaken, you, my dear girl, simply have a clitoris instead of a penis.”

            Molly swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “It should be illegal for you to use your voice like that in public. Never mind what the words were.”

            He held his hand out and she took it. They strolled out of the restaurant, trying their level best not to laugh. As soon as Mycroft’s car appeared less than a minute later and they got inside they both let out several long exhalations of giggles.

             “What do you say to a hotel room?”

            Molly smirked. “I don’t think either of us will care what our surroundings look like.”

            “No, but it would considerably cut down the amount of time we’d be in the back of this car as it sits in traffic.”

            “Then by all means, book us a room.”

            Mycroft sent off a very succinct text message. _Probably to his secretary,_ Molly mused. She wondered if the woman would cackle in maniacal glee at the turn of events and decided that she was probably laughing in triumph already.

            It hardly took another five minutes for them to be dropped off at a considerably posh hotel. Hand in the crook of his elbow, Molly allowed Mycroft to lead her inside.

            The manager at the desk nodded and slipped Mycroft a keycard. It made her wonder how many times Mycroft had done this with male companions. Their room was on the second floor, not too far down the corridor from the lift.

            As soon as the door had been shut and locked, Molly surprised Mycroft by nudging him against the wall and tugging him down for a kiss. There was no hesitation in her actions that were all full of heated longing and desperate desire. He responded in kind, allowing her to lead the kiss and continue to deepen it into something that was a clear erotic invitation.

            Their tongues danced and sang in an ancient rhythm of lust and sexual need. Molly’s fingers began flying over Mycroft’s many buttons semi-trying to prevent herself from simply yanking his waistcoat and shirt open. His jacket was already lying on the floor by the door.

            She moaned wantonly into his mouth as he took her lower lip possessively between his teeth. The action didn’t bode well for the lives of his still intact buttons.

            “Here,” he said huskily, “Allow me to help you.” He removed his waistcoat and tossed it unceremoniously on top of his jacket and then yanked his shirttails out of his trousers and undid the braces at his elbows. In another instant the garment hung fully open at his chest, finally exposing his bare torso to her view. She pushed the white shirt over his shoulders and he shrugged out of it. “Now, my dear, I think it’s your turn to shed some layers.”

            She helped him undo the buttons of her blouse and smiled as he took in the sight of her in a white lace bra. Her hands then settled at the front of his trousers and her smile turned darkly predatory as she gently caressed the evidence of his arousal.

            “ _Why hello there_ ,” she said throatily.

            Mycroft groaned as her fingertips grazed the firm head of his cock through his trousers. Molly quickly made short work of his belt and zip, and he obligingly stepped free of his clothing, toeing off his shoes and socks as well. Molly returned her hand to his straining erection, skimming her palm over it teasingly before helping him pull down his deep burgundy pants. She spread her fingers around his velvety hard length, petting and stroking in slow measured movements.

            “There’s a condom in my wallet . . . in my left trouser pocket,” he said breathlessly. Molly then retrieved the item, tore it open and fitted it over his erection.

             She then slipped her skirt off and quickly removed her stockings. Smiling up at him with smouldering intensity she then took both of his hands in hers and guided them around to the catch on her bra. He then slid the straps reverently from her shoulders and let the garment fall from his hand.

            His eyes fell to her small but supple breasts, and he reached up to gently rub a thumb over her right nipple. She leaned into his touch like a cat, closing her eyes in bliss.

            She circled her arms around his neck, a silent request for him to pick her up. He did and she settled her thighs against his hips. She kissed him deeply again, sucking and tasting every part of his mouth as their lips crushed together in harsh intensity. The kiss quickly escalated from a passionate union of lips to a wantonly filthy display of erotic desire.

            Mycroft carried Molly to the room’s king sized bed, laying her down and divesting her of her last piece of clothing. She arched her back invitingly, spreading her legs in an indecent little show of playfulness.

            Mycroft gave her a wicked little smile for her efforts. He then got onto the bed, but not in a position where he was straddling her. Instead, he settled onto his knees on the lower half of the bed, looking up at Molly thoughtfully. Molly nodded.

            “Let’s see what you remember,” she whispered.

            He began kissing the inside of her left thigh, paying careful attention to the sensitive flesh, tonguing and suckling it worshipfully. He gradually worked his way higher until he found her mound of pink folds. His tongue darted out experimentally and Molly hissed as his mouth made contact with her labium. Her hands fisted into the sheets as he used his hand to spread her open for his ministrations. He worked his tongue higher until he found the spot he sought. Holding her between his fingers he took the puckered bud of flesh very gently between his teeth.

            “ _Okay, yes, you’ve found it!”_ she gasped. He tugged it a fraction in just the gentlest hairbreadth of a movement and Molly shrieked in pure pleasure. Her left leg twitched as waves of physical euphoria coursed through her body, much like the leg of a dog being scratched. Mycroft did not relent, sucking and licking for all he was worth and before either of them knew it she was coming in a panting rush of endorphins. He continued to lave her crevices deeply even as she shook and mewled through her orgasm.

            “And to think . . .” she said as she fought to catch her breath as Mycroft proceed to kiss her way up her body. “That you led me to believe you’d forgotten how to pleasure a woman,”

            “Perhaps your body simply inspired me to remember,” he told her, raising his head from licking and sucking her sternum.

            “Perhaps,” she said. “Now for the next question. Do you want to shag me as you normally would or would you rather take me like you would a man?”

            The sudden look on Mycroft’s face almost made Molly laugh.

            “I only look sweet and innocent,” she said, giving him a knowing look.

            “What is the lady’s preference?” he asked.

            “Mmm, the talk of horses rather makes me want to ride you,” she told him.

            And then Mycroft let out a sound from his throat that could be described as nothing other than a rather sexy _whinny._ The sound probably should have been utterly ridiculous. It wasn’t. It travelled straight to Molly’s core.

            Mycroft then rolled and shifted so that Molly could throw her leg over him and straddle his hips. She rolled her pelvis experimentally, rocking against Mycroft’s impressively thick erection. She then lifted herself up and impaled her body on the tip of his shaft. Mycroft thrust his hips forward to meet her, easing her further down onto him.

            Molly closed her eyes as she adjusted to Mycroft’s girth. Half a minute later she let herself fall all the way down to seat herself fully upon him.

            She gave him a darkly wicked look from beneath her lashes.

            “All right, horsey, giddy-up.”

            She then proceeded to ride him without mercy. She expertly clenched her walls around him in time with their momentum, throwing her head back as Mycroft tightened his hands around her hips. They fell into a hypnotic rhythm, dragging out their pleasure for as long as they could, each one giving and taking, taking and giving, pleasuring each other in and endless loop of erotic physical sensation.

            Molly came first, her body gushing around Mycroft’s shaft, liquid coming forth as if a small damn had burst, and well . . . indeed one had.

            “Oh, female ejaculation isn’t a myth,” she said with a satisfied smirk. “I’m one of those rare creatures who can reach climax on basic penetration alone.”

            Mycroft smiled at her as he continued his sharp thrusts. “Indeed, usually it’s the man who comes before the woman.”

            “I don’t fit the usual mould, I’m afraid. I suppose that can be said for a lot of things about me, really.”

            She rocked with him for a minute longer until his body drew tight with coiled tension and he let go, shouting out her name in a hoarse supplication. She smiled beautifully at him as he drifted down from his climax.

            As she got off of him and he stood to dispose of his condom, she settled down under the duvet and fixed Mycroft with an amused look. “There’s one more thing I should probably mention,”

            “Yes, my dear?” he asked, as he pulled back the bedcovers to get in next to her.

            “If you’re _assistant_ sends you any weird text messages about tonight, just ignore them. I think she’s already starting to plan our wedding,”

            Mycroft laughed uproariously and Molly started giggling.

            “Is that so?” Mycroft asked. “You know, maybe we should let her,”

            They both started laughing again, neither one being able to quite fight off the urge to quit giggling for quite some time.

            Later, they would come to see this night as one of the best nights of their lives. For it was the start of their life together.

           


End file.
